


Handprint On My Heart

by xyliane



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Post-Chimera Ant Arc, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 14:12:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11488020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xyliane/pseuds/xyliane
Summary: It’s easy for Gon to wonder, when his best friend’s so far away, what happens when he’s not there. Sometimes he wonders why.





	Handprint On My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> [because I knew you, I have been changed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZ0pXUb5jVU)

It’s easy for Gon to wonder, when his best friend’s so far away, what happens when he’s not there. Sometimes he wonders why.

—

_What have you seen?_ Gon asks, in messages and emails and the all-too-rare phone call.

Killua answers with a laugh, bright and electric and happy in a way that only Gon used to hear. _Everything! We’ve seen buildings the size of pins and penguins the size of houses. We’ve seen flying whales and swimming clouds._

_Where will you go?_ Gon asks.

Killua answers, _Everywhere we can,_ and promises to send postcards.

—

Gon’s never dreamed all that much, and this does not change now that he is back on Whale Island. Even if he does, he wakes with only flashes, odd patches of summer skies and far-off mountains, friends he doesn’t know and cities he’s never been. There’s nothing to be done about things that never happened, even if they feel real during the fuzzy moments of waking up.

As it is, the only dreams Gon remembers vividly enough to puzzle over are those about missing math tests, Aunt Mito’s rage transforming her aura into immense algebraic equations that chase him around the island while Killua sits just out of reach and laughs and laughs and laughs, blue eyes dancing as he holds his sisters’ hand.

Besides, it’s memories that haunt Gon more than any dream.

—

_Have you made new friends?_  Gon doesn’t ask.

Killua doesn’t answer _Yes. A lot. They’re kind, or they’re weird, or they’re cruel, but they’re mine._

_Has anyone replaced me?_  Gon doesn’t ask.

Killua doesn’t answer _No, never. No one ever could._

—

Sometimes, old friends find their way to the island. Most of them are truly just there to visit. Knuckle and Shoot drop by and manage to attract every foxbear cub on the island. Meleoron and Palm swap drinking stories with Aunt Mito for the better part of a night, leaving Gon with a strangely nostalgic feeling to cleaning up half-empty bottles scattered around the kitchen table. Leorio returns from the Dark Continent and scolds Gon for not taking care of himself, neglecting both the new scars across his own hands and the knowing smile on Kurapika’s lips.

Other acquaintances come because they’ve heard about Ging. That he grew up here, that his son is here, that maybe he left something of himself here. Some of the Zodiacs and members of the Yorknew Archaeological Society want to see the sights, to understand what makes Ging’s head spin sideways to everything else. Aunt Mito doesn’t like these people, but they bring stories, or gifts, or business to the port she can’t turn down. Gon tells himself he doesn’t mind showing them around, to lead them to the clearing with the glowing anthills or the crevice overlooking the King of the Swamp. None of them seem interested, or very interesting.

Rarely, people come because they’ve heard stories. About the boy who defeated a royal guard of the chimera ants, who stormed the palace to save his mentor. About the Hunter who can’t hunt anymore, brought low by homework. These people, Gon approaches quietly, more unsure than he’s ever been, and listens to their advice on what he might be able to do, where he could go, who he can speak to. Nothing they say does anything to help him–he did this to himself, and he’s the only one who can fix it, can determine if it can be fixed. But Gon asks them anyways, because he understands the desperate need to feel better by helping someone else.

Killua doesn’t visit, and Gon doesn’t ask him to. Killua has his own life now with his own goals, and he doesn’t need to be burdened with Gon’s. After all, Gon owes him enough lifetimes already, countless as stars in the sky. (That Killua might feel he owes Gon as much doesn’t even cross his mind.)

—

_Has the world changed without me?_ Gon wants to ask.

Killua would pause, because it has and it hasn’t and he’s not sure how much is the world and how much is them. _Everything changes eventually, idiot._

_Even you?_ Gon wants to ask.

There would be a break in his voice, a void of silence filled with experiences Gon can never have with him and will never understand. _Even me. But that’s all because of you._

—

It’s easy to forget it all happened in a day. Sometimes it feels like it took merely seconds, others that it took years and lifetimes and worlds.

Gon doesn’t remember it all very well, although he remembers moments. A dying girl with _that thing_ standing over her, meaningless words spilling out of their mouth that all lead to nothing but death. A broken puppet he’d known all along was empty with white hair and threadbare strings. The abrupt absence of Killua at his side, a gaping canyon flooded by blackened rage. And when the anger’s gone, having nothing left inside but bloody guilt, sick and wrong but so _right_ because it’s the only thing left he has left. A ball of blue lightning with Killua’s eyes. Killua’s hand on his shoulder, Killua’s gaze on his back, Killua’s screams in his ears, _Killua_ —

Gon remembers his choice clear as daylight, even if the reasoning behind it stays foggy and opaque. That moment when he didn’t lose control but gave it up, because why keep going if he’s already failed everything he worked for.

He’d meant to give up everything he was, everything he could be, to try to make up for what he’s failed.  But Gon never meant to give up Killua.

—

_Do you miss me?_ Gon can’t ask.

So Killua can’t answer, because he’d have to say _More than anything_.

—

Every day, Gon wonders what Killua is doing, where he is in the hours and weeks they don’t speak to each other. He tries not to think about why.

( _Because,_ a voice answers in a tone as achingly familiar as the pounding of his heart, _I want to be friends forever._ )

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings about gon freecs. 
> 
> [tumblr!](xyliane.tumblr.com)


End file.
